Day Versus Night
by Katrina Puffinstuf
Summary: Night and Day... two forces in our lives that seem to intertwine with each other and yet repulse each other... total opposites. Watch how the mere change from day to night can turn a person's life upside-down-Specifically Hermione Granger's. HG-RW


Day Versus Night 

By K-Trina Puffinstuf

_**Day** (dā) **1.** The period of light between dawn and nightfall_

Daybreak. A golden beam of sunlight streamed through the single slit in the hangings around the bed. This particular beam traveled up the bed, over the mounds of blankets, and onto a certain not-so-young Gryffindor's face—right onto her closed eyes. It proved to be quite a shock when Miss Hermione Granger blinked her eyes open at precisely 7:15 a.m.

She winced at the intense light that shone at her, and immediately covered her eyes with her hand. After situating herself further, she sat up in bed, stretching and yawning. Climbing out of bed and slipping her slippers onto her feet, she yawned once more and stood up. Hermione, tired as she was, was ready for whatever the day threw at her.

Everything was going great this morning, save the small pain in her lower abdomen that sometimes twinged, but she brushed it aside. Her shower was pleasant, as was breakfast. Ron had bought her one dozen long-stemmed red roses that morning, a gift representing one year of a blossoming relationship between the couple. She threw her arms around Ron, planting a firm kiss on his wind-chapped lips in front of the entire school. It was the first time she did this, and she did not regret it, even though the student body ooh-ed and aah-ed at the sight. . As their cheeks touched during that split-second, she noticed the jump in temperature in Ron's face. When they broke apart, his face was bright red, but it wore a genuine smile.

"Ready for our date this evening?" he said, taking her hand into his.

"Of course," she said warmly. "I can hardly wait!" She was ready, too, having her brand new dress and bottle of hair-calming solution at the ready. Come 5 o'clock tonight, she would be fit for a king—or maybe even Ronald Weasley, Quidditch captain and _extraordinaire._

The day passed without incident, as it usually did. She earned about 30 points for Gryffindor in Transfiguration, Ancient Runes, and Charms combined. In Potions, she found the most minor mistake in Professor Snape's instructions in brewing a Polyjuice Potion (she was an expert at brewing it, making it for Harry and Ron for eavesdropping purposes every so often). Snape docked 5 points from her when she corrected him, and this made a voice in the background snicker and sneer. Draco Malfoy was, once again, teasing her braininess, but she didn't care. She knew that deep down inside of his body, he had a weakness somewhere, and this satisfied her.

Potions ended at around 4:30, and as soon as class ended, she rushed up to her dormitory to fix herself up for her date. She slipped into her dress and applied the hair solution, instantaneously straightening her bushy hair into sleek, gentle curls. For once, she allowed herself to look into the mirror and be pleased with the way she looked. She did a few last minute checks on herself—dress, hair, and makeup—and then dashed down the stairs, into Ron's arms.

Ron and she were granted special permission to spend the evening in Hogsmeade for dinner to celebrate, and Ron took her to a surprisingly upscale restaurant, considering the Weasley's were ironically in the process of filing bankruptcy. The fact he spent so much money on her again flattered Hermione, but she appreciated it all the same.

Over a candlelit dinner, Ron held her hand, smiled at her, and said everything she could have possibly wanted to hear from him. She smiled back, squeezed his hand, and nodded obligingly to all of his compliments, thanking him modestly and blushing furiously.

For some reason, that moment brought to light all of the subtleties that Ron's physique was beginning to show—what used to be a large nose grew into an attractively pronounced one. His smile was somewhat alluring, with one faint dimple appearing on his right side when he laughed. His body seemed to finally be proportionate, and his voice was soft and melodic. She stared at him for a minute as he talked, not saying a word, noticing all of this and also that the sun was setting.

"Are you alright?" he asked concernedly after she didn't speak for several moments.

"Yes," she said, as the glow of the candlelight became the prominent source of light in the room. "I'm just realizing how handsome you've become, that's all."

Ron laughed at this and blushed slightly. "Thanks," he said, rumpling his hair in the way that drove Harry completely insane, for some odd reason. "Only the best for you."

Hermione smiled at this but did not respond, and she continued with her dessert.

About a half hour later, Ron paid for their check, and they decided to take a walk down the main road in Hogsmeade. Ron took Hermione's hand, and they were on their way.

The sun was almost completely set, lighting the world faintly with a pinkish-orange glow, and since the sun was nearly gone, the wind seemed a little cooler than it was, biting at them whenever it came in gusts against them. Each clutched their robes closed as they walked and talked.

They soon reached a clearing where the setting sun could be seen perfectly. Ron took off his robe, laid it flat on the ground, and gestured to Hermione to sit. She did so, willingly, and Ron joined her. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek, making her smile and blush a little.

"Thanks for dinner tonight," she said. "It really meant a lot to me."

"Sure, love," said Ron, kissing her once more, "anything for you."

As the sun went down completely, they snuggled in each other's arms for a few more minutes, and then headed down to the train station where they would take the Hogwarts Express back to their school.

**_Night_ **_(nīt) **1.** the period between sunset and sunrise, esp. the hours of darkness._

Nightfall. As soon as Hermione got back to her dormitory, she already had the owl waiting for her. It would be carrying that usual parchment, stating the time and place of their nightly meeting. It would not, however, tell her the purpose of the meeting. It never did.

She strode over to the owl, making sure that the room was empty first by checking the beds, and then snatched the piece of parchment out of the owl's talons. She opened it, read it quickly to herself, memorizing the place, and then burned it with a quick flick of her wand. Tonight's meeting would be in the dungeons—in Snape's spare classroom. This alone made her uneasy, but upon remembering the words, _You will pay if you are late_, she gasped. The meeting was to be held at 10 o'clock sharp. It was already 9:58.

Hastily, she took her hair down and jumped out of her dress. She dressed herself in her school robes and tidied herself up as fast as possible, hoping she would at least look presentable. Taking her schoolbag and Head Girl badge, she rushed out of the room, down the stairs, through the common room, and out of the portrait hole.

She walked speedily, knowing that she would look suspicious to Filch if she were running down the staircases and through the corridors, eager to get to the dungeons. She was prepared though, if she did meet him. Head Girls and Boys were allowed to patrol the halls at night, just as Filch was, as long as they had their badge in a prominent place.

Hermione check her watch. The big hand had just ticked past the 12. She drew her breath sharply inward and broke into a run. She was now officially 30 seconds late. She desperately prayed for tolerance and perhaps even lenience as she dashed down the corridors and into the dungeon. She ran down the stairs to the front of the room, nearly tripping down the last three, and she set her schoolbag down at the table next to her. She was out of breath, sweating and full of fear, but as she eased herself down into a chair, she looked around the room, seeing no one. It was apparently deserted.

She sighed with relief. "Well, then! I suppose I'm not—"

"Late?" said a voice from behind the door she just came into.

Hermione gulped as the weight in her stomach increased. She turned in the direction of that familiar voice, realizing that she was wrong to think that he would ever be not on time.

The door slammed and the faint light that shone into the room previously vanished. Hermione slunk into her chair in fear. She gripped her wand in the pocket of her robes even though she instinctively knew he anticipated this reaction from her.

"This is a surprise to me Miss Granger," he said in his malicious voice, stepping down each stone step, a little closer to Hermione each time. "You are usually the Princess of Punctuality, the Limiter of Lateness, the Ruler of Regularity." He stopped and chuckled at his own wittiness, and then said seriously, "But enough with the joking around—why weren't you here when you were supposed to be?" The steps stopped. Hermione did not even take a breath. She was totally silent.

"You would be stupid if you thought just by stifling your breathing I wouldn't know where you are," he said with a little laugh. Hermione stiffened. "What if I told you that I could hear your heart pounding? That the reason you are kept alive is giving your hiding spot away? Hmm?" He voice had taken on a quizzical tone. "I am guessing that you don't believe me. You don't think my sense of hearing is that keen, correct? Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger—"

There was a split-second of silence, and then suddenly hands his hands were clutched around her throat.

"—You are _wrong_."

Hermione gasped and choked, kicking and punching around, trying to find any part of his body to hit—anything to ease the grip around her throat.

"_Why were you late?!_" he roared, squeezing her throat. "_Tell me!"_

She tried to make a faint "R" sound, telling him that she was with Ron, but nothing would come. Her head now felt as if it was about to explode, and her lungs were screaming for air it could not have. Her legs flailed around and luckily found contact with some part of his body. He screamed in agony as she flew to the other side of the room, dodging tables and chairs, nursing her aching throat.

"I was out," she said from across the room, gagging.

"Out where?" he said, obviously composing himself. She could hear him getting to his feet.

"In Hogsmeade," she said, taking her wand out and taking aim at what she thought was him.

"With?" he asked. She could now hear his footsteps again. She adjusted her wand's aim again, pointing her wand towards his voice.

"Ron," she said. "Ron Weasley."

He chuckled. "You are still keeping that façade going with that _boy_?" he spat. "Don't you realize how much better you can do?"

"If you mean you," she growled at him, "then I don't think I want to do—"

Suddenly, Hermione felt her body pinned up against the cool dungeon wall. She dropped her wand in surprise. His full weight was against her, and she could feel his hand opening her robes slowly.

"I do mean me," he whispered into her ears, "and I know that somewhere, in the back of your mind, you _do_ want to."

"No," she muttered, feeling his hand travel up her leg and under her skirt. "I don't want this."

"But you do," he said, biting at her ear, making her shudder. "You do every single night…"

"No," she said again, "I don't want this from you."

"Would you want this from Weasley?" he asked, taking off her skirt and all that lay beneath. "But why? He doesn't know you like I do…"

Hermione said not a word.

"No, he doesn't," he said. "He doesn't know about your little weakness." He drew his lips to hers and kissed her softly, undressing the rest of her. "That little thing that we both enjoy so very much…"

She stood stock still and naked, determined not to give him the pleasure of being right.

"You are fighting very bravely tonight," he said into her ear. "I always love it when you put on this show. It really does get the mood going, doesn't it?" He let his body press against her once again. Hermione nearly gasped when she found he was already undressed. She tried her hardest to avoid his touch.

"Why don't you want to touch me, Hermione?" he snarled at her aversion. "Afraid of me?"

"No."

"You won't be able to fight this much longer," he said, letting his hands roam about her body, finding the numerous spots of weakness he spoke of, and caressing them with his fingers. A small sound of pleasure escaped her lips. "Ah," he said, "aren't I always right?"

She gave a small whimpering sigh, admitting defeat.

"Good girl," he said. "Now kiss me."

She brought her lips to his and kissed him over and over with an increasing amount of intensity and fervor. Something seemed to replace her fear and feeling of complete violation. She suddenly could remember why she was so anxious to receive the owl that waited for her every single night. As he entered her body, that sense of completion that haunted her dreams every night became a reality. Their bodies strove furiously to become one once again. Through bites, pants, moans, screams, clutching, ripping, tearing, clawing and all other primal instinct did they achieve this. Upon finishing, the couple sank to the floor—bruised and battered body within bruised and battered body.

After a few moments, he lit his wand and held it over Hermione's quivering body.

"_Accio ointment_," he said upon seeing her bruises, scratches, and teeth marks—all things that he caused. He opened the medicinal lotion and rubbed it upon her gently.

"Ouch!" she said upon feeling the sting of the lotion, recoiling from his touch.

"Shh," he said, "this will help them heal by tomorrow morning. The pain will only last a few seconds."

He continued his doctoring and then covered her with her robes. He knelt down next to her and kissed her. "Tell me when you wish to leave."

Hermione nodded and drifted in and out sleep, watching him pace across the room, getting dressed and muttering to himself. Eventually, the cold floor of the dungeon made her back stiff, and she wanted to sleep in a bed.

"Can you take me to a bed, please?" she asked him.

He traveled over to her and placed one hand on her cheek. "Sure, love. Anything for you." He kissed her forehead and helped her find all of her clothing. When she was fully dressed and standing, he brought his lighted wand between the two of their faces so they could look upon each other. Hermione gasped as she beheld his face for the very first time that night. She almost screamed.

"_Imperio_," he said lazily, taking a step back away from her.

Hermione's face took on a moronic look, and she stared stupidly up at him.

"You've just finished your date with Ron Weasley. You will go into your bedroom. You will go to sleep. The past events never took place. Understood?"

"Yes," she answered in a dull voice.

"_Finite_," he said, removing the curse. Hermione turned on her heel and walked out of the dungeon.

He turned to the wall with his lighted wand and found a piece of tattered parchment with tally-marks on it. He scratched another tally-mark into it with his fingernail, muttering, _"And 365 makes one year."_


End file.
